A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
“Is there more paperwork for me to sign?” I asked.
“Not for the federal case,” Reynolds said. “I wanted to say I was wrong about that consent form you brought me last month, Arthur.”
He opened the blue folder, the pages rustling loudly in the wind as he turned over three sheets of yellow county record paper.
“We ran the digital trail on that electronic filing,” Reynolds said. “It came from an IP address registered to Chadwick’s remote tech firm in Scottsdale, three days before the public auction even started.”
“It was a crude forgery of my name,” I said, remembering how clean those printed lines had looked.
“It was,” Reynolds said, looking me straight in the eyes with a tired expression. “I should have taken it to the county attorney the day you brought it in, instead of telling you to let the neighbors settle it. I’ve been on this force twenty years, Arthur, and usually, these things are just two stubborn farmers arguing over a three-foot strip of alfalfa.”
“They weren’t arguing,” I said. “They were stealing.”
